


The Talk

by closet_monster



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Sexual Assault, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26184172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closet_monster/pseuds/closet_monster
Summary: Cassian is quite observant and a fearful Nesta is the strangest sight he'd ever seen.
Relationships: Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 10
Kudos: 97





	The Talk

**Author's Note:**

> NIGHT. So hm. This is what I actually had in mind when I started writing It Takes Time and a Little Death, but then I went hard and it became the acofas rewrite. So I went back to this and wrote the oneshot how I originally intended. (It could also be like a continuation to the last oneshot I posted, guess they take place in the same """universe"""")  
> hm that's it. go ahead and read a little bit.

Cassian is an observative man - it doesn't miss his perception how Nesta curls into his side, still as a rock, shoulders tense and head down. And he knows something is wrong, because that shy, fearful behavior is simply not a part of her. His girlfriend is a human sized goddess, a storm imprisoned in her eyes and the end of times contained in her chest. Nesta stands like she owns the ground, shoulders back and chin up like a queen; she has poise, a confident strut, a sensual sway to her hips. People move out of her path, heads either lower as she passes or follow her in awe.

Hiding inside his arms wasn't something very  _ Nesta. _

He pulls her closer, though, her back to his chest, arms crossed over her waist to pass it off casually - despite all, Nesta had never liked eyes on her and the last thing he wanted was to alarm their drunk siblings.

Lowering his lips to her ear, his tone grave enough to pierce through the bar's live music, but still low enough so that the others didn't hear a thing, Cassian asks _ "what's wrong, sweetheart?" _

Nesta looks up slowly, eyes so unsure under a creased brow - she's worried. And he can't see the grey; those are drowned by the yellowish lights reflecting on them, making it so much harder to read through her silence. He's also had a few drinks in, which makes the world around him slightly harder to comprehend. But she means to say something, Cassian can tell, until her eyes seem to catch something across the bar and she's quickly averting them down again. Nesta folds her arms over his and her hands are shockingly cold as she lets her palms curl over his hot skin.

Cassian does look around to try and catch what she had seen across the room, but it's not like he can tell without a little verbal indication. Everything seems to be running smooth, though the bar is nearly crowded - all of them strangers, behaving as normally as they were.

It didn't make a lot of sense.

"Are you feeling alright, Nes?" He folds even closer into her, going over possibilities of what might be happening. Low blood pressure? Iron deficiency? Nausea? Nesta hadn't even drank enough to be deemed tipsy. Perhaps she hadn't eaten enough through the day? "Something's not right."

Nesta shakes her head "no" and he's not sure if she's trying to be dismissive or actually asking for his help. The later is certainly alien, for one. 

"Do you want out?"

Tipping her head back into his chest, she gives it a second of consideration, looking in between him and their siblings over the table. And Cassian feels tension locking up his shoulders as she thinks - being a little antisocial rat, being asked to go back home had to be one of Nesta's favorite things and the answer to that question was always an immediate  _ "yes!" _

"You don't have to go." She says into his neck and Cassian can't help but think that she's so pitifully tearful - which is wrong, wrong in every single way it could be. "Everyone is having fun."

He doesn't call Nesta out on her naivety to assume he'd ever let her go alone; that she thinks he could possibly have fun when something is clearly wrong with her. But he's not in the mood to tease or possibly start an argument, not when his girlfriend looks like a few heavy words could pull her apart. Cassian's sensibility walked in hands with his reason and it'd take a lot more alcohol in his blood to alter those. So grabbing her pretty shoulder bag from the table and waving their siblings a goodbye, he guides her out of the bar - they had played it off easily, so no one comments a thing about them leaving early. Not even Azriel or Amren, who were usually much more perceptive. 

Nesta tries to call an uber - but her hands are shaking too badly to get anything done. Cassian only notices after about twenty minutes of drunkenly staring into the streets; before taking the phone off her hands and doing it himself.

The small apartment they had just moved into a few months ago was a good 40 minutes away from the bar Rhysand had lured them into, but the empty streets make for a faster ride. Nesta leans into him heavily, out of her seatbelt, which makes another alarm go off inside his brain - Nesta Archeron had to be one of the most careful people he knew, especially when cars were involved.

"The seatbelt, sweetheart." He murmurs into her hair, fiddling with their things and the small space to lock her in place safely. She lets him do it, almost limp in his arms, and Cassian keeps thinking to himself that Nesta had barely drank anything at all the whole night. It did not make sense; maybe they should be going to the hospital instead. Or maybe he's overlooking into this, though it is unlikely. Cassian was hardly ever unreasonable, even inebriated.

Nesta is still quiet when they get back home, after the door is locked and her bag is thrown on the couch. She's quiet when he leads her into their small bathroom - his girlfriend had the lovely inability to go to sleep without a shower, an habit he picked up on a few months into their relationship. They don't really shower together, though neither is good enough to stand on their feet over the wet tiles - but he's close by, stripping and brushing his teeth, waiting for her to come out. And his shower lasts about a minute, the glass door opened so he could watch her brush her teeth tangled in one of his big towels, so long it went all the way down to her calves.

The picture would have been much more endearing if Cassian wasn't choking with his own worry, brow furrowed and chest tight.

Since his towel was the only one in the bathroom, he dries himself around her - Cassian doesn't miss the tiny snort Nesta gives him, indulging his strange rubbing until they were both stumbling in bed, kicking the wet towel into the floor and covering themselves with an uncomfortably fresh blanket that wouldn't get warm until a couple of minutes.

And Cassian bites it down again. A wet towel on the floor? What had happened to her?

"Nes," He whispers into her hair, pulling her almost limp body into his side, "what's wrong?"

But she's asleep, eyes softly closed and mouth hanging open against his shoulder - Cassian sleeps over his worry, though the alcohol certainly helps.

.

Nesta wakes up surrounded by comfort, though her right side is a little numb under Cassian's weight. The illyrian had always been an early riser, sometimes was out of bed even before the damned sun came out; but it wouldn't be the first time alcohol messed with his organism. She tries to crawl out from under his chest, as he had probably turned over her body during the night, and the little motion makes him stir awake - only pressing her further into the mattress.

"Cassian!" She groans against the skin of his chest, helplessly trying to lift him up - countless pounds of an oblivious cuddly boyfriend who viewed himself as a 10 inch long teddy bear. "Get off!"

He's falling back in a second, startled by her command. It's harmless, he knows, but there is something urgent hidden under her tone. It doesn't take long for him to assimilate how their night had gone: Nesta freaking out over something which he had not yet figured out. Something that made her blood pressure drop, her hands go cold, her limbs go limp.

Something had been wrong and maybe, it still was.

And if Nesta was hoping to go through that event smoothly, the knowing look in Cassian's eyes was enough for her chest to deflate.

"What happened, baby?" It's Cassian's thick voice, as if he's not even awake yet, that grounds her back on her body. "You gotta talk to me."

She… Maybe she does. They needed to talk: it was one of the deals for their relationship. Since neither of them were great with communication, they had decided early on not to hide or keep things in the dark, just to avoid sticky situations. And even though they had both tried and so far succeeded, there were a few things that might have purposefully flown under each other's radars - like Nesta never informing Cassian of her first, last and only boyfriend before him.

Tomas fucking Mandray, who was mostly gallant and nervy, up until the day she decided to break things up with him. Then, foul words about her were screamed on the top of his lungs; her belongings were thrown around his apartment until they were all broken and ruined; up until he gripped her wrists and knocked her against the wall, up until he started fisting her dress and pulled at the fabric until the seams busted open and Nesta fought for her life before something ugly happened.

She had never opened up about that one incident. Had kept it not only from her father, who was still alive at the time, but also from her younger sisters. Never considered to call the cops, to fill a report, press charges; didn't even check her swollen wrists in the hospital. Those were unbearable for weeks, for that matter - but it was never a possibility. And she sure as hell never told Cassian, even though he was the one person in the world who knew the most about her.

Cassian, whom Nesta was entirely sure she would marry someday.

"Oh." She breathes out, avoiding his intense eyes as he rose to his elbows, getting a better look at her face.

_ "Oh." _ He nodded back, the firm tone making it clear that the subject would not be dropped. 

_ That's my future husband, _ Nesta reasons with herself while steadying her breath. It was becoming ragged the more she thought about it - a handful of memories so deep inside her consciousness that she could barely remember those things had happened at all. It was all real.

"I," She takes another deep breath, pulling their one blanket over her shoulders before speaking again. "I had this one boyfriend."

Cassian waits for her to continue, but the words seem to die on her throat. He's the one to follow up, then, unwilling to let it go. "Feyre told me about it."

He doesn't specify how much; or that Feyre's opinion of the guy was that he was a douche and how relieved everyone was after Nesta had dropped him. Apparently, the bastard had taken 2 years of her life during college, pulling her back so bad, the sisters rarely got to see each other until the break up. And Cassian, veteran turned cop, knew enough about those kind of guys to keep his ears trained.

"I think I saw him yesterday." She nods to herself, trying to remember the man who blinked at her inside the bar.

She was  _ not _ drunk. Nesta had barely finished her first drink when she saw him enter the bar, spotting her as quickly as she had done him. The bastard smiled and blinked, then turned away and stood across the room with a group of guys she hadn't noticed before. She didn't know any of them, but again, she hadn't known any of his friends when they were a couple. Things were that strange. And Nesta hadn't noticed most of it until getting tired, until the explosive end.

And there the motherfucker was, standing tall without a worry in the world, smirking at her like he was trying to say  _ "Look at me. I can do whatever I want to you and get away with it." _

Nesta hadn't cared much about herself back then - not until becoming an ER nurse. She worked wild shifts, much like her boyfriend, and was used to seeing women of all ages stumbling inside the hospital she worked at in all stages of domestic violence and sexual abuse. The woman she was now would have shredded Mandray to pieces when it first happened, but back then, Nesta was not yet that woman. It took years of seeing herself over and over again in different bodies, coming inside the hospital and asking for help, like she hadn't done. It took internalizing that if they weren't guilty, then she wasn't either.

She was one of those women and though it was shameful, it was never her fault. But damn, if the shame didn't speak louder.

And all of a sudden she's trying to shy away, hoping that he wouldn't approach her in front of everyone - or at all. That she wouldn't have to admit to her sisters what had happened all those years back; that she wouldn't have to admit to Cassian that she was one of the women that he talked about from work. That she related to them whenever he spilled stories about the things he'd seen during the day over dinner, and how hard it was to hold everything inside herself.

She had never told a single soul.

"At the bar." He states, trying to remember what he'd seen after looking across the room. He'd seen a lot of people, of course, a thick wild mass of them. There was no way that he could actually tell anyone apart, especially considering that he had never seen said man before. "You saw him there. And you froze?"

He didn't know, but it wasn't hard to take a guess.

"Yes, I…" The words get caught in her throat again, and she's not yet looking at him. Her eyes are focused on the ceiling, the lamp; and Cassian knows what she means to say even before there's tears forming on her waterline. "We had an ugly break up."

"Hm."

Cassian doesn't want to sound like an idiot, but he wants her to talk. And it seems that won't happen if he doesn't prompt it every once in a while; so be it. He's an incredible patient man, not much in this world can wear him down.

She means to say something, she wants to explain herself or actually tell him what had happened, but there's an immensity of things falling over her shoulders simultaneously and Nesta can't help the tears that finally do come out; or the sobs, the shaking. Until she's enveloped in Cassian's warm arms, being rocked back and forth while he muttered inaudible things into her hair - she does want to speak, but it's not possible at all. The silence, consumed by crying, only gives him time to theorize about what the hell had happened and Nesta doesn't want him to assume anything. She needs to control the narrative, let him know that she had fought and it wasn't exactly like  _ that, _ but her voice is hardly above a whisper as she struggles to say something.

It takes time. She can tell by the way the window light moves on the bed, time passing by as she steadied herself.

"Hey." Cassian greets her when Nesta pushes herself up on her elbows, leaning into his chest.

_ "Hey." _

"Do you want to tell me about that?" He prompts, lacing his arms around her waist under the covers.

"I don't… I…" She doesn't know how to explain, how to make things clear without context - but giving context means unpacking way too many things she doesn't want to deal with. Still… She needs to say something; needs to start somewhere. "He screamed at me, broke my things, pushed me around- "

Her voice breaks again, but Cassian gives her time. The good twenty seconds it takes for her to swallow back her tears and take a deep breath.

"He tore my dress and I think he tried to rape me."

Nesta looks into his chest, unable to bring herself to see his face and whatever expression he has. And she's not really afraid of what he'll think of her: Cassian's not a bigot and definitely not a bastard - even though most cops are. She knows he's like an oversized child, kind hearted and sweet, impossibly fair and understanding. Somehow a gentleman despite his terrible manners; she's not afraid of what he'll think, no. She's just aware that saying it out loud makes it real and she might not be ready to watch Cassian realize.

"Hey." One of his arms moves from her waist and comes to tilt her chin up, as delicately as he could manage with his awkwardly big hand. "Did you tell anyone?"

Concern - that's all.

"No."

"Did you check up in the hospital, press ch…"

"No. Nothing." She cut him off before it brought up way too many memories. This was not a good topic and the more they pooled in it, the more she bristled. "I got out and kept quiet. I never did anything, never saw him again."

She knows where Cassian's mind might be going:  _ does she have any plausible proof that could be used in court? _ Even though they both know that she would never allow the situation to escalate like that. It's supposed to be dead, after all: there's a number of reasons why she never acted on it.

"You think you saw him yesterday." Cassian nods to himself, brow furrowed. "What's this motherfuckers name?"

_ Background check. _ She knows he can get it done with a few phone calls, but that's the opposite of what she wants. Nesta wants to let this mess die, it's all she's ever wanted.

_ "Come on, Nes." _ Cassian moves a hand to caress her ear the way he knows she likes. He's so incredibly perceptive; people took him for granted more often than not. The illyrian probably knew exactly what was going on inside her head - hell, Cassian had field experience with this bullshit. "Did he try to talk to you? Approach you? Did he make you feel unsafe?"

_ Yes! He did! _ But how is she going to say that? And what exactly could they possibly do? You can't arrest someone for looking at your girlfriend the wrong way.

"He blinked at me. And smiled." Nesta shrugs, looking down to his chest again. How shameful it was to admit that someone's damned  _ presence _ was enough to make her blood stop running. "I didn't look again."

"Ok, good. And did it feel like a threat?"

_ Yes, it had felt like a threat, _ but being looked at the wrong way wasn't necessarily something that they could use. In fact, it sounded exactly like overlooking into something that would just fuck her up further in the future. And the whole subject just makes her body go numb - maybe because she had never even considered talking about it, Nesta has no idea of how it was supposed to go and it feels just… Weird. And painfully uncomfortable.

Though the fact that Cassian believed her at all was a good start. 

_ "Nes." _

"No. Yes! I don't know. Maybe? I don't know, Cassian." She sinks back into the mattress, hiding her face under his shoulder. "I was… Maybe I just got nervous and freaked out."

"So you  _ did _ feel threatened." Cassian reasons, rising on his elbows to look at her instead. "You were pretty scared yesterday, sweetheart. Don't you want to give me his name?"

_ Yes, I want to feel safer; no, I don't want you to do something stupid. _

Because try as he might, Cassian can't fully hide the anger peppering his voice and locking his body tight. The illyrian is tense, like he's trying to control himself for her before bursting into a storm - and that won't do. It's the last thing she wants; besides, can't a woman just cuddle in bed with her naked boyfriend in peace? Can't she catch a break after everything?

"Why?"

"I just want to check things." He shrugs, bringing the blanket higher on her shoulders.

_ "Check things. _ You won't use this to go after him and do something stupid that we're all going to regret?" Nesta cocks her eyebrow, staring right into his hazel eyes - and his shameful three second break is all she needs to roll her eyes back. "Cassian, no."

"You're telling me that yesterday you saw the bastard who tried to assault you; that he made eye contact with you and then smirked. Now  _ I'm _ the one feeling nervous, sweetheart." He tries to reason, sitting up in the bed. "I just… If you really don't want to do anything, I'd feel better if I could at least know where he lives or what he's doing. And I'm not going to do anything stupid, I promise."

She trusts his words - despite the looks, Cassian was the most reasonable in between his siblings. Both Rhysand and Azriel; the adorably shy and sweet Azriel, could easily go ballistic if provoked just the right way. Cassian had a little more grip over himself.

"Tomas Mandray." Nesta murmurs just loud enough for him to listen, staring into the blanket.

The name felt foreign on her lips.

"Ok. I'll check him up." Cassian nods slowly, his soft tone buttering her discomfort down. "That's… Is that all? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Didn't… Didn't we just talk about it?"

"Not really, sweetheart. You told me you had an ugly break up and that you were assaulted. Then, there was a lot of crying and a lot of cuddling on our side." Cassian eased back in bed, curling himself around her body under the blankets. "But… You know you don't have to say a thing. Not if you don't want to. We have time."

Yes.  _ Time. _ That's her future husband right there. They can have his conversation today, in five years, ten; maybe thirty, if they live so long. They do have time.

"Can't we just cuddle some more?" Nesta breathes out, pushing herself closer into his chest. "Without the crying this time."

"Of course." Cassian mutters into her hair, leaving a trail of kisses that go all the way down to her ear - and she can hear the words he doesn't say:  _ I love you.  _ Though for her, it sounds loud enough.

"I love you too."


End file.
